When I heard that petty squabbling has threatened to stall an important movement to deal with Milwaukee's troubling infant mortality crisis, it sounded very familiar.

What sounded most familiar was the sense by some in the African-American community that powerful forces had decided to deal with an issue of great impact for many low-income black residents of Milwaukee without including enough credible black voices.

Pat McManus, executive director of the Milwaukee Black Health Coalition, raised the issue of a lack of input from African-Americans in a bold plan by the Milwaukee Lifecourse Initiative for Health Families that the city and the media has enthusiastically endorsed to educate the public on the life-threatening problem.

McManus, who has been on the front lines of these types of public health campaign for years, put it pretty plainly when describing what she thought was holding things back: "This is what happens. Power outside the black community appoints a black person they back, who will do what they say."

McManus was talking about a specific staffing situation - "We thought they would be bringing in a consultant to consult with us, not to run it," she told the Journal Sentinel - but the real issue is money.

The Wisconsin Partnership has committed $50 million - $10 million every five years for 25 years - to four cities participating in the Wisconsin Lifecourse Initiative for Healthy Families: Milwaukee, Racine, Kenosha and Beloit.

Whenever that much money is allocated for dealing with a "black problem," veteran observers in the inner city are not surprised when the purse strings aren't controlled by black hands.

McManus wasn't happy with the amount of participation by local black health officials and leaders for a city that is 40% African-American with many social problems in the black community.

She's been accused of creating dissension, but I think it's a valid observation from a veteran black leader who knows the way this stuff works.

And it's just not McManus who thinks that way. I've heard the same over the years from black professionals in all walks of life who think the city seldom puts real control in the hands of black people when it comes to big-money projects.

The distrust between some African-Americans and the largely white organizations that are involved in helping solve social problems in Milwaukee isn't widely acknowledged, but it's out there.

More times than I can count, I've talked to African-American community leaders in government, education and the public sector who chafe in an environment where their involvement is solicited but the bigger decisions get made by others.

It's the kind of situation in which only a certain number of black folks at any given time get to sit in the room. And if you're not in the room, you get left out.

McManus reminds me of former state Rep. Annette Polly Williams, now retired, who was an early supporter of the school choice program for African-American families in Milwaukee. After becoming a national media star back in the 1990s, Williams was pushed out of the limelight when school choice became a high-profile, and lucrative, policy proposal for conservative politicians who wanted to use the issue for their own political purposes.

When Williams began to push back against Republicans who favored expanding school choice outside of the black community, she was pushed out of the spotlight altogether.

There are plenty of black professionals in Milwaukee who agree with McManus when it comes to how some white power-brokers deal with the African-American community.

The money generated to improve the lives of low-income residents in predominantly minority areas of the city is controlled by people who live outside those areas, and it's no surprise sometimes resentment bubbles to the surface.

In some cases, it may be misguided paranoia.

But there's enough evidence of grand experiments in Milwaukee that promise to come up with solutions to black problems that lacked sufficient input from black people for some to cast a suspicious eye.